


A Different Path

by askalfendilaytonmod



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room
Genre: Crime Scenes, F/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askalfendilaytonmod/pseuds/askalfendilaytonmod
Summary: In a world where Diane Makepeace does not follow her father's footsteps, but others do. Inspired by tumblr user cattomboy's alliance swap AU.





	A Different Path

**Author's Note:**

> This story was cattomboy's LB;MR Secret Santa gift from back in 2015. I dearly hope I’ve portrayed Chico’s way of speaking appropriately. I mean no offense in the slightly-broken language used; I’ve only attempted to emulate what was done in the game.
> 
> I have built Diane’s character on the idea that she is suffering quite a lot of stress and guilt over her situation, as I believe is reasonable. I do hope I could one day write a version of her where she is both a good person and a happy one.

She walked through the halls of Scotland Yard, the jingling of her necklaces and bracelets impossible to miss.

It was a sound that caused heads to turn, and everybody knew who was coming. As she passed officers and detectives alike, they wished her a good morning, and she did the same though she could barely muster a smile.

It was one of those days where she didn’t wish for the world to see her. The sooner she got to the Mystery Room, the better.

She passed Goldie, who was deep in conversation with an unknown man by her office door. Another suitor, Diane supposed, but she doubted she’d ever catch sight of him again. Goldie’s forensic work was well known among the Yard; her commitment to men, however, was not. Everybody knew better than to comment. Goldie was one of the best workers they had.

Goldie’s head turned away from the man as she caught Diane’s eye. “Ah, Diane! I’ve sent the latest report to your office, let me know if you need mah help, love.”

Before Goldie could return to her conversation, Diane approached her properly. “Forensic report?” She frowned. “I didn’t ask for one.”

Goldie looked away from her man again, who didn’t seem to mind all that much as he stared at her. “I assumed the gen’lemen in admin would have given you a call?” When she received only a blank stare in reply, she sighed. “Oh, this is why nobody likes the pohlice these days! There’s been another murder.”

Diane’s heart fell. She hadn’t expected much from the day, but this was more than she’d bargained for.

“Thank you for letting me know,” she said, but by that point Goldie had returned to her conversation, engrossing the man with her laughs and hair flicks once again.

Stopping outside the Mystery Room, Diane was about to put her key in the lock, but she paused. The noises from inside told her that the room was not empty.

“Nobody but me should have the key,” she muttered, frowning. “Except for the janitor and the Commissioner, but neither of them have a reason to be in there at this time of day.”

There wasn’t anybody else in the corridor, and she didn’t have time to get help. Whoever was in there may do some serious damage, or take the opportunity to get away from the scene. There were too many precious documents in there, not to mention the irreplaceable equipment for the crime scene reconstruction device.

Thinking about the machine sent urgency through her. “Over my dead body,” she muttered, her hand resting on the thin gun she had tucked in the inner pocket of her coat. Diane breathed in quickly before throwing open the door.

In a second, all her stresses disappeared as she looked upon the startled face of Chico Careta.

“Chico!” She took a moment to herself, closing her eyes as she moved her hand away from her gun. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to see you here yet.”

“Oh no, I sorry!” he said. Before she could blink, a blue mask was held over his face, the elaborate designs showing a deep frown. “I make mistake! I should have wait outside, Inspector Makepeace!”

“Just Diane is fine, Chico.” She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “And no, I’m sorry, you’ve done nothing wrong. How did you get in here?”

“The Strapping!”

She frowned for a moment, not understanding. “The janitor, Roscoe Strapping?” she clarified. Upon seeing him nod, she shook her head. “I’ll have to have a discussion with him about letting people into my office.” Strapping was a dismal person to deal with, and an even more dismal janitor. If it weren’t for the Commissioner’s pity, he’d have been fired long ago.

Still looking miserable, the mask didn’t move from Chico’s face.

“Don’t worry, Chico, I’m not upset with you. It’s about time I give you a key to this place, anyway.”

The mask was swapped instantly to a brighter one with a wide grin, and she even caught Chico’s own smile behind it. “Really? You trust me?”

“Of course.” She approached him, taking the spare key she had tucked in her bag and pressing it into his palm. “You’ve been doing well here, especially since you’re not used to London!”

Diane didn’t just say that to make him feel better; she meant every word. He hadn’t been in England long at all on his exchange program, yet Chico was coming along well, both with his English and his investigating skills. He wasn’t accustomed to taking on so many cases, being he came from a small village where he was the only constable. She’d initially been concerned about having him assigned to her; she was used to working alone, and was always wary of partners. Still, Chico had exceeded her expectations.

She would be sad to see him go, truthfully.

“I thought…” Chico stopped himself, and though his bright mask remained up high, his actual expression looked troubled. “I thought I do no good. Is why I came here early.”

Diane laughed. “Quite the opposite, I promise.”

Still, he continued. “I worry I’m no good because we always here. Never at the crime scene.”

Her smile quickly faded, and her words got stuck in her throat.

Truthfully, she’d expected Chico to comment on this far earlier. They’d been working together for a month now, and everything they’d done had been from the Mystery Room. She’d worried about it a lot; she felt she was depriving him of learning all he could.

“It’s… it’s not because of you, Chico,” she said carefully. “It’s because of me. I only ever work from the Mystery Room, with the crime scene reconstructions. You being here hasn’t changed that.”

“Oh?” He seemed surprised.

“Yes.” She was now embarrassed. “I can organise for somebody to take you out to a real scene, if you like. DeBonair is a senior officer, he works some good cases.” Her speech was becoming more rushed. “I don’t like him, personally, and he’ll order you around a bit, but at least you’ll get some hands on experience.”

“No, I no mind at all!” Chico smiled at her warmly. “I like working here, with you and the funny machine. I never seen anything like it.”

“It’s quite impressive, isn’t it? But please, do let me know if you want to go to a real scene. God knows there isn’t a shortage of them.”

He nodded, placing the mask down as he now looked at her more seriously. “A file arrive before you come here.”

Diane remembered what Goldie told her earlier. “There’s been another murder. I’m assuming it was committed by the same person who killed the other three men in the last two weeks.” Taking the folder from the table, she flicked through it, not flinching at all when she was met with the gruesome crime scene photos. In fact, she had to conceal a smile.

She hated that about herself. She quickly closed the folder.

“Let’s take a look at the scene before we examine Goldie’s report,” she suggested. “It’s good to come into things with no preconceptions. We might notice something important.”

Taking the small microchip, she pushed it into the reconstruction machine. Pressing a few buttons, the scene came to life in front of them, and Chico instantly covered his face with the blue mask again.

The pictures couldn’t do it justice. Blood was splattered on the walls, smeared with what seemed to be a hand. Diane knew the criminal would have worn gloves – they had every other time – but hopefully Goldie had found something of use.

Next, she turned her attention to the body. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and seemed to be deflated. It was to be expected; the killer had not only spread blood on the walls, but left the body sitting in a large pool of it. It was just like the other three killings.

“She sure likes to drain them,” Diane muttered.

“She?” Chico seemed surprised. “A woman?”

Diane pointed to the handprint. “Look at this; it was left at the other scenes as well, and is quite small. Generally speaking, women have smaller hands than men.”

Finally looking through the report Goldie had supplied, Diane noted that the death had been near instantaneous. There were multiple deep stab wounds in the body, which was hard to see in the reconstruction due to the mess. Diane supposed this was to ensure that as much blood left the body as possible.

Why do this? Was it to satisfy some dark desire, or was the criminal trying to send a message, a warning to others? What was her mission?

The ideas began to excite her, and she turned off the reconstruction before she could get any further. Sitting down, Diane buried her face in her hands.

God, she was  _sick_ and  _twisted_.

“Diane?” She didn’t need to see his blue mask to know that Chico was concerned. “What is wrong?”

“There’s a reason I don’t work outside the Mystery Room, Chico.”

Diane hesitated before continuing. She didn’t want to concern him, but she knew that he would be her partner for a while yet. Soon, he would begin to hear rumours about her, and she didn’t want him to learn something that wasn’t accurate. She’d much rather he heard everything from her.

“My father wasn’t a good man,” she began. “I think I always knew that, but… well, when you’re a child, you don’t know anything about the world beyond your own little bubble. Growing up, I was trapped in that bubble with just my father. He’s had quite an influence on me.” She took a moment to compose herself before continuing. “You wouldn’t have heard of the Jigsaw Puzzle Killings, they weren’t publicised. It was a series of very violent murders, with a puzzle piece placed near each victim.”

“How horrible,” Chico said, his blue mask not moving from his face.

“It was.” She could tell that Chico already knew where the story was going. “He took me to one of the murder scenes one day. He told me to wait in a particular room, and that he was having a meeting with the other man, but I…”

“You see what he did?”

She nodded. “Yes. I walked in, and there he was. The man was already dead, and my father was holding the knife in one hand and the jigsaw puzzle piece in the other. He didn’t have a speck of blood on him; I should have known then that it wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this, but at the time, well…”

“You shocked, it makes sense,” Chico said. “You see something horrible.”

“No, I don’t think I was shocked.” Admitting the next part was going to be difficult, but she knew she’d come too far to stop now. “I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the scene. Though my father was spotless, it was a bloody mess, all of it. The body just lay there, lifeless and empty.”

Here they were; the words that would make Chico question whether or not he would stay by her side.

“And I liked seeing that. I thought it was all fascinating, beautiful, even.”

It hadn’t been what Chico was expecting to hear. Behind his blue mask she watched his eyes widen, and he seemed at loss for words.

“I know it’s wrong,” Diane said quietly after the silence had stretched on too long. “Trust me, I do. I hate myself every day for loving these scenes. I despise what my father did; I learned all about it after his death. Part of me, though… part of me adores what some criminals create.”

Chico spoke up then. “Not being afraid of blood make you the best Inspector. You solve any case!”

She sighed gently. “It would make me the best  _criminal_ , Chico.”

“You know what your father do was wrong. You aren’t him.”

Wasn’t she? “Do you know,” she said carefully, “that it’s believed that criminality is biological? Adoption studies are interesting; despite not being raised by their biological, criminal parents, many adopted children ended up with a criminal record.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “And look at me; raised  _only_  by my criminal father! I’m utterly  _ruined_! What hope is there for me, Chico?”

Chico looked down, unsure what to say. Diane didn’t expect him to say anything, really. Words just kept on tumbling from her mouth.

“When I started working for the Yard, and people found out who I was, I began getting threatening letters, you know. Most of them were rubbish, accusing me of helping my father with the murders. I didn’t pay much attention to them. But one… one, I kept. I can’t get the words out of my head sometimes.”

She strode over to her desk, rummaging through her drawer and pulling out a note. She slammed it against the surface with more force than necessary, looking at Chico to ascertain his reaction. She knew he struggled with reading, but the words were simple enough.

 _Do not trust Diane Makepeace_.

Chico’s mask hung in his hands, his face uncovered. There wasn’t a mask that could portray what he must have been feeling. “How horrible.”

“But they’re right, aren’t they? They  _can’t_  trust me. I  _don’t_  trust me. That’s why I’m here, Chico, instead of at the crime scene. I’m terrified that seeing all that blood and gore in real life will awaken something in me, awaken the monster that my father was.” She shook her head. “I refuse to let that happen. It  _can’t_  happen. At least here, I know the scene is just pixels. It excites me, I can’t deny that, but it’s a shadow of what I felt that day when I saw what my father had done. Here, I’m  _safe_. Everybody else is, too.”

She finally breathed in, and it felt as though the world was lifted from her shoulders. Never before had she realised just how much of a burden it had been, but explaining things to Chico was like freeing herself.

Her relief was short lived. How he would react to all this was another matter entirely.

He took a while to respond, shuffling through his masks until he found the one he wanted. Blazing red, he placed it over his face.

She braced herself for the hatred she would surely hear next.

“Diane, you are too unkind to yourself!” For the first time, he sounded angry. “You do best to make the world better! You are not your father; you know he bad, and you try to stop people like him. You get horrible letters from people but still work here, because you know it right. You have no reason to say such awful things to you!”

Before she could respond, his beaming, yellow mask was lifted up. “You give me hope!”

“Chico…” She felt touched by his words, and with her lip quivering slightly, she took in a shaky breath. “You really think so?”

“Yes! Always yes!”

For the first time that day, she genuinely smiled. “Thank you. It means so much. I’m sorry for putting all that on you.”

“We all have demons. Sometimes, we don’t want to let go of them when it better we do.” They stood there for a moment, and to Diane’s surprise, Chico reached towards her and pulled her into a quick but tight embrace. “Be strong. You are bigger than your demons.”

She hugged him back. “I’m trying.”

They chipped away at the case slowly in the next few hours. By luck, they managed to get some video footage taken from outside the building, where a rented car was driven to and from the scene. The night was too dark to make out a clear face, but it was definitely a woman. Thankfully, they managed to get the car’s number plate.

They spoke with the company the car belonged to, but the criminal was thorough; she’d broken into the building and destroyed all files about her transaction. All they managed to acquire was a single name that one employee remembered. It wasn’t much, but it was something; they were a step closer to putting an end to the violent bloodshed.

Later that night, after she’d sent Chico home, Diane sat in front of the crime scene reconstruction, her fingers tapping gently against her chair as she examined each scene.

“So,” she murmured, “just who are you, Lucy?”


End file.
